Can You Help Me
by Dani-Ellie03
Summary: "All I used to have to do to get her to talk to me was make her some hot chocolate with cinnamon. Now she hardly can stand to be in the same room with me." A quiet sigh escaped Snow's lips. "I just miss her." A few days with the Charmings post-"A Land Without Magic."
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Can You Help Me  
**Summary: "**All I used to have to do to get her to talk to me was make her some hot chocolate with cinnamon. Now she hardly can stand to be in the same room with me." A quiet sigh escaped Snow's lips. "I just miss her."  
**Spoilers:** Set after 1x22, "A Land Without Magic  
**Characters:** Emma, Snow White, Charming, and Henry.  
**Rating/Warning:** K+. Some angst, some fluff, some family bonding.  
**Disclaimer:** _Once Upon a Time_ and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. Not mine, never will be mine, I'm just playing, all that jazz.  
**Author's Note: **This evil little plotbunny was supposed to be a one-shot. It quickly turned into a three-shot. Oops? Inspiration for this story, the title, and the lyrics used to head each chapter all came from one of my favorite songs by Vertical Horizon (and one of my favorite songs in general), "Can You Help Me." Feedback is much appreciated and will make my Week From Hell better! Enjoy. :)

* * *

_Can you help me? Because I went away.  
__Can you help me, or is it too late?  
__Can you help me? I'm trying to get through.  
__Can you help me? Because I want to love you._

* * *

A gentle hand slid onto Snow White's shoulder. She jumped at the unexpected touch and clamped her own hand over her mouth to muffle her gasp. In the stillness of the darkened apartment, even that small sound would have been deafening. "Sorry," a contrite voice whispered into her ear. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay," she replied just as softly. Her heart rate was already returning to normal as she turned her head to give her husband a tiny smile. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

"Funny, that's the exact same question I was about to ask you." He gave her a pointed look and then gestured at their surroundings, silently asking his wife why she was standing at the top of the stairs to the loft bedroom at two in the morning.

Her smile turned sad as she returned her attention to the bedroom. Henry's nightlight provided just enough illumination for her to see that he was sleeping peacefully. And it provided just enough illumination for her to see that Emma's sleep was far from peaceful.

The past couple of days had been chaotic, to say the least. Once the purple cloud dissipated, it was quite evident that magic had been restored. The implications of the return of magic were showing themselves more and more every day.

Both Regina and Rumpelstiltskin had gone into hiding. There was no sign of either of them in any of the obvious places, at any rate. Emma had just barely managed to settle the gathering mob and send them all home while firmly telling them that _she_ would handle it. The mob had backed down, trusting their savior to do as she said, even though poor Emma quite clearly didn't have the slightest clue how to protect a town from an evil witch and the Dark One.

It also turned out that even something as simple as going home had become insanely complicated. The curse had torn families apart and created new ones, with members of one family scattered all over town and living with members of other families. As such, any one family could have a number of homes, all of which had been shared with a number of families.

It was for this reason that David, Snow, Emma, and Henry had all squeezed into the apartment Snow had inhabited as Mary Margaret. It hadn't been easy at all; the apartment was barely big enough for her and Emma to share. Moving two other people in had made the space practically claustrophobic.

Henry, still on a high that was equal parts joy at Emma breaking the curse and vindication, had taken everything in stride. He insisted he didn't mind having to sleep on the daybed in the loft because it was just his size. They'd grabbed his favorite things and some of his clothes from Regina's house and he'd happily stuffed everything into the tiny dresser he now shared with Emma. He'd gone from living in a huge house with a bedroom of his own to sharing a loft space with an adult, but he was happy as a clam.

His mother was a completely different story. Not comfortable around people in the best of circumstances, Emma would practically withdraw into a world of her own every time she felt the need to escape the cramped space, which was becoming increasingly – and, to Snow, concernedly – frequent.

"Snow, your side of the bed was cold when I woke," David whispered, startling her from her reverie. He gently rested his chin on her shoulder, following her gaze to the two sleeping bodies in the bedroom. "You've been up here for a while, haven't you?"

Tears brimmed in Snow's eyes but she blinked quickly before they could fall. "This is the only way I can get close to her now."

His hands searched for hers in the darkness. After finding them, he threaded their fingers together and squeezed. "Just give her some time."

Snow sniffled before nodding her head. She still had Mary Margaret's memories, after all. She knew Emma, and she knew how Emma handled things. Even as she and David had dashed to the hospital to find their daughter and grandson after the cloud rolled through, she'd had a sinking feeling that Emma's walls had shot straight back up again.

Their reunion had been awkward at best, and Emma had spent the past couple of days with Henry at the sheriff's station, leaving before breakfast and arriving home just as Snow got dinner on the table. She brought boxes of files home with her and would retreat upstairs to work after the dinner dishes were dried and put away.

When David pressed her on it, Emma had insisted that she had a lot of work to do. And of course, she did, but Snow knew Emma well enough to know that she was using her work as an excuse to avoid dealing with either of her parents.

Conversation among all the adults was stilted and superficial, and Snow longed for the ease of their relationship before. Before the curse was broken and before their relationship was defined and complicated and before she could look at Emma without seeing that beautiful, precious, squirming little baby she'd swaddled in a blanket and sent off into an unknown world, completely alone.

"I almost wish I didn't have Mary Margaret's memories," she whispered to David, "because then I wouldn't remember when it was easy."

He completely understood the desire not to remember. There were plenty of times he had wished that he didn't have David Nolan's memories, wished he didn't remember how David Nolan had treated Mary Margaret. But Snow didn't need commiseration right now; she needed a release. So he put a small smile on his face, raised a single eyebrow, and said, "_She_ was easy?"

Just as he'd hoped, she giggled. No, relating to Emma hadn't been easy, not at first. Over time, though, she'd managed to chisel away at Emma's walls and dismantle them, brick by brick. Now it felt like a construction crew had come in overnight and built the walls back up with stronger materials. These walls, Snow knew, couldn't be dismantled piece by piece. These walls would require a wrecking ball.

"All right, maybe easy isn't the correct word," she allowed, "but we were comfortable with each other. All I used to have to do to get her to talk to me was make her some hot chocolate with cinnamon. Now she hardly can stand to be in the same room with me." A quiet sigh escaped her lips. "I just miss her."

"I know you do," he murmured. "Truthfully, I think she misses you, too. I can see it in her eyes when she looks at you."

She turned to face David, her eyes searching his for signs that he was merely humoring her. "Do you really think so?"

"I do." Before he could elaborate, Emma turned over in bed with a soft whimper. Snow tensed, wanting more than anything to run to her daughter and comfort her. David held her back and then nudged her shoulder. "We should go. You think she's uncomfortable around us now? Just wait until she finds out we've been watching her sleep."

As if on cue, Emma shifted position again, swiped a hand across her face, and propped herself up on one elbow.

Snow gasped as she and David tried to duck back into the shadows, but it was too little, too late. "David? Mary Margaret?" Emma grumbled sleepily. She hadn't gotten used to her mother's real name yet, and the old name had a tendency to slip out. Neither Snow nor David ever bothered to correct her, figuring she'd get used to it in time. "What are you guys doing?"

"The power went out downstairs," David replied. Snow wrinkled her brow at him and he gave her an almost imperceptible shrug, as if to tell her it was the first alibi that came to his mind. "We were just checking to see if it was out all over the apartment."

"It's on up here," Emma replied after a groggy glance around the loft. She threw the covers off her legs and started to push herself off the bed. "Must be a tripped circuit breaker or something. Want me to check it out?"

"No, that's not necessary," Snow hurriedly answered. "We've got it under control. Go back to sleep."

Emma frowned in puzzlement but shook her head and settled back down, tugging the covers around her shoulders. "Okay, whatever, just trying to help," she mumbled. "G'night."

"Good night, Emma," Snow returned.

Snow and David remained silent until Emma's breathing deepened. Then they met each other's eyes and quietly shared a laugh. "That was a bit of a close shave," he whispered through chuckles.

"Too close," she replied, choking back another giggle. "Much too close."

* * *

By the time Snow got up the following morning, Emma and Henry were already dressed and gone. A note in Henry's childish hand left on the counter said that they'd headed to the station early because Emma had a mountain of work to do. Snow imagined that Emma did indeed have a lot to do – or at least a lot of things to try to wrap her head around – but did it really necessitate leaving the apartment before seven in the morning?

She heaved a sigh and tossed the note into the trash can. "Emma and Henry already left," she called to David, who had just turned off the water in the shower.

"Hmm," came the distracted reply. Just as she opened her mouth to repeat herself in case he hadn't heard her, he poked his head out the bathroom door. "Bet you they didn't get a good breakfast."

"You know as well as I do that Emma is hopeless in the kitchen …" She trailed off, realizing that her husband was suggesting that they take their daughter and grandson out for breakfast.

The plan was genius, really. Sitting through breakfast with her best-friend-turned-mother and her best-friend's-lover-turned-father was probably the last thing in the world Emma wanted to do but she wouldn't put up much a fight in front of Henry. "No," Snow said, a coy grin on her lips, "I bet you they didn't."

"Forty-five minutes?"

"Make it half an hour."

David returned her grin.

Less than an hour later, the four of them settled into a booth at Granny's. Granny had decided to keep the diner open even after the breaking of the curse because, in her exact words, "people still need to eat." They placed their orders, and when Emma asked for a slice of toast and a cup of coffee, Snow had to bite her lip to keep from telling Red to add an egg or two to her plate.

"Did the doctors say when I can go back to school?" Henry asked no one in particular as they waited for their food to arrive.

The school had also remained open because, much like Granny's reasoning for keeping the diner running, children still needed an education. Snow continued to teach Mary Margaret's class in an effort to keep things as stable as possible for the kids. Henry, however, had not been to school since his release from the hospital, and he was beginning to get antsy. Sitting in the sheriff's station with Emma all day long was _really_ boring.

"Not for a while, I don't think," Emma replied. She felt her parents' surprised eyes on her and shifted uncomfortably. Henry, oblivious to the dynamic among the adults, opened his mouth to protest, but Emma shook her head. "You just got out of the hospital, Henry. You're supposed to be taking it easy."

Snow and David exchanged a glance. Henry did need to build his strength back up, but his doctors hadn't said that he would have to remain out of school for any length of time. David looked like he wanted to bring up that point but Snow gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. _Not here and not now_, the silent gesture told him.

He nodded to let her know he understood and changed the subject, asking Emma about her plans for the day.

"Well," she said, smiling a thank you when Red brought their drinks over, "first on my list is tracking down some weirdo who keeps knocking on doors at night and asking whether or not the children are home."

Henry's brow furrowed in thought. A moment later, he started snickering, and Snow soon joined in with a giggle of her own. Emma looked helplessly at David, who shrugged at her. "What's so funny, you two?" he asked.

"'Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town,'" Henry recited.

"Oh, _come_ on!" Emma groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Seriously? You never said anything about nursery rhyme characters, too! Next you're going to be telling me that the lady who owns Storybrooke Landscape and Design is Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary."

Henry, not catching Emma's statement as sarcasm, nodded excitedly. "Now you're getting it! And remember when I told you about that boy who chases all the girls around at recess making kissy faces?"

Emma stared at him with a look of horror on her face. "Don't even say Georgie Porgie. Just … don't."

"Okay," Henry shrugged, winking at his grandparents. "I won't."

By now, David was chuckling, too. "On the bright side, at least now you know that there's nothing sinister about your weirdo," he said to Emma. "He's just making sure the parents know where their children are."

"Yeah, well, maybe that kind of behavior was sweet in the Enchanted Forest but in this world, that's how episodes of _Law & Order: SVU _start."

Emma was met with three frowns of confusion. She hadn't expected Henry to understand the reference, but she thought she'd at least get a snicker out of David and Mary Margaret – er, David and Snow. Strike number … oh, too many. "Never mind," she sighed.

* * *

Snow started on the dinner dishes while Henry and David retired to the living area for a game of cards and Emma carried a copy paper box full of files up the stairs to the loft. As Snow washed, she looked from her husband and grandson, who had apparently decided on Go Fish, to the stairs and back again, frowning in thought.

She hadn't expected it to be this hard having her daughter so near and yet so far away. Emma was physically there, close enough to hear whenever she made even the slightest movement upstairs, but the emotional distance between them might as well have been an ocean. If only Snow knew how to break the ice, how to get through to her. How to reconnect with her.

Snow put the dishes away and, before she could think better of it, climbed the steps to the loft. Emma sat on her pillows, her back propped up against the headboard. Piles of paper and scads of manila folders surrounded her. "What on earth are you doing?" Snow asked as she took in the mess.

"Welcome to my life for the last few days," Emma sighed, brushing a lock of hair that had escaped her loose ponytail out of her eyes. "Trying to match up everyone's real identities to their curse-created ones. Sorting out rightful ownership of property and possessions. Settling feuds that have been forgotten or whitewashed for the past twenty-eight years. You name it, I'm in the middle of it." She absently swiped a hand across her forehead as she plopped a stack of papers on her bedside table. "This is a freaking nightmare."

"Do you want some help?"

Emma flinched, and Snow knew at once that she'd pushed too hard. "No, thanks."

"Emma–"

"It's just that I know where I am with everything," she hastily added. Snow raised an eyebrow and indicated the mess. Emma shrugged, picking up another file. "I know it looks bad, but it's controlled chaos."

Sensing that continuing down this avenue would only end in an argument, Snow decided to switch the topic of conversation. "Did you find Willie Winkie?"

Grateful for the subject change, Emma shuffled through some folders until she found the correct one and handed it over to Snow. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but yes, I found Willie Winkie. You may have known him as Adam Cryer. He works at the newspaper, running the press. I explained to him that he can't go around knocking on people's doors anymore but if he has concerns about anyone's safety, he's free to call the station."

Snow gave the incident report a cursory glance. The man in the license photo didn't look familiar to her but as Mary Margaret, she hadn't come into contact with many of the people working in the newspaper's printing office. She set the folder back down on Emma's bed and gave her daughter a smile. "I knew you'd find him."

"It's what I do," Emma replied with another half-hearted shrug.

The two of them fell into a mildly uncomfortable silence. Snow looked Emma over, taking in the dark circles under her daughter's eyes. "You know, Henry and David are playing cards downstairs and I'm thinking of joining them. Do you want to come down and play with us?"

Emma met her eyes for a split second before averting her gaze again. "I've really got a lot going on up here–"

"We could play whatever you want," Snow offered.

"What difference does it make to you whether or not I play cards?"

Again, she'd pushed too hard. She cringed but some instinct she didn't quite understand made her stand her ground. "It doesn't make a difference to me, personally, I suppose. It's just that you look like you need a break. Your eyes are swimming, and you're clearly getting a headache because you've been massaging your forehead for the past few minutes. So put everything away for the night and come downstairs. The files will still be here tomorrow."

Emma glanced around at the reams of paper covering her bed as she considered Snow's words. Playing cards certainly sounded a lot more fun than what she was doing, and Snow was correct about her mounting headache. She eventually let out a breath through her nose. "War, or it's no deal."

"War it is," Snow smiled.

Emma rolled her eyes as she crawled over folders and papers and off the bed. As Snow followed her down the stairs, she grinned, thrilled that she'd managed to talk her daughter into a little more family time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Wow, thank you guys so much for your overwhelming response to this story! My inbox pretty much exploded from all the reviews and favorites and alerts. I'm touched. Thank you. Hope you enjoy the next part!

* * *

_I can see that love alone is not enough,  
__If you don't believe in what you are and what you've got.  
__The tears you cried have come to my eyes._

* * *

Emma was just a year or so older than Henry the last time she played War. She had twisted her ankle in gym class one morning and no one from her foster home had been able to pick her up from school, so she'd spent afternoon recess in the classroom playing cards with her teacher. She remembered having fun but it paled in comparison to the fun she was having now.

Maybe having four people play instead of two made the game more unpredictable. Or maybe it was because Henry grinned in delight every time they had to declare a war, even if he wasn't involved. No matter the reason, she found herself relaxing for the first time in days.

At one point, when a war between David and Henry turned into a double war, she looked up and met Snow's eyes. Snow smiled at her and Emma had actually returned it. It wasn't a big smile with teeth or anything, just a slight upturn of the corners of her mouth, but Snow's eyes brightened at the affection. Emma's breath caught in her throat and for reasons she didn't understand, she squirmed in her seat and looked away. A moment later, Henry's shout of glee at having won the double war drew them both back into the game and the awkwardness was forgotten.

They played until Henry's eyelids started to droop, at which point Emma told him it was time for bed. He put up a little bit of a fight – they were in the middle of their third game and he'd just won the fourth ace – but when a huge yawn interrupted his pleas, he didn't have a leg to stand on.

Originally Emma planned to tuck Henry in and head back downstairs but the thought of talking with her parents without Henry as a buffer practically gave her a panic attack. So after getting Henry settled, she went downstairs just long enough to tell Snow and David that she was going to bed, too. She claimed her headache had worsened, which wasn't a lie. It just … wasn't the reason she wanted to stay upstairs.

The hurt look that crossed Snow's face for a split second made Emma's stomach lurch. She wished she could take it back and stay downstairs with them, even for a few minutes, but she didn't know how to do so without looking like she was backpedaling. When David, who was better at hiding his disappointment than Snow, told her he hoped she felt better, she quickly wished them good night and escaped back up into the loft.

Now Emma lay in the dark, listening to Henry's even breathing, willing herself to go to sleep. With her mind racing the way it was, though, sleep was impossible.

Were they talking about her downstairs? Probably. Not that she blamed them. She would be talking about her, too, if she were on the outside looking in.

What the hell was wrong with her? Emma had wanted to find her parents since she was old enough to understand that she didn't have parents. When she was younger, she wanted to find them so that they would realize that they had made a mistake in giving her away and they would take her back to a real home where she would be loved. As she got older, she wanted to find them so she could ask them how in the hell they could have loved her so little that they'd tossed her along the side of the road like a piece of garbage. Then she had wanted to find them just to prove to herself that she could. And sometimes she wanted to find them simply to get to know them, to see what they looked like, to know whether she had her mother's eyes or her father's nose.

And now here she was, with her mother and father at last. She had parents who loved her. Her parents had sent her away not because they didn't love her but because they loved her so much they'd sacrificed their own happiness just so that she would have a shot in hell of escaping the curse. They wanted nothing more than to shower her with the love and the affection that she'd taught herself years ago to stop craving.

She finally had parents, and she was running from them. As hard and as fast as she could.

The whole situation was so goddamned messed up. Her best friend was gone, and her mother – a woman she didn't really know and who, let's not forget, was the same age as her – had replaced her. Snow was not Mary Margaret. Snow had more fire than Mary Margaret, more strength, more confidence. She was feistier. But sometimes, like just now when Emma had said she was going to stay upstairs, she looked so much like Mary Margaret that Emma missed her so much it actually hurt.

David was a little easier to handle – maybe because Emma hadn't known David Nolan all that well – but he still was different. More sure of himself, more decisive, more relaxed. Funnier. But he had his David Nolan moments, too, and her heart ached every time he did.

Even after all her mental wandering, sleep still evaded her. Emma sat up, wincing when her headache intensified with the position change, and switched on the lamp on her nightstand. After waiting a moment to make sure the light wasn't disturbing Henry, she climbed out of bed and dug out her file. She never dreamed when she started the damn thing that her search would end like this.

File in hand, she climbed back into bed. Maybe now that she knew how the story ended, she would find clues she'd missed before.

* * *

Snow stood at the top of the stairs and peered into the loft. She didn't need to squint to see into the room because Emma had somehow fallen asleep curled up on her side with the bedside lamp shining in her eyes. From her angle, she could see Emma's arm draped across an open file. Snow sighed; Emma's work ethic was admirable but falling asleep over her tasks was a clear indication that she needed to slow down.

Snow tiptoed into the room, approaching Henry first. At some point, he'd pulled the sheet over his head. Smiling, Snow pulled it down and folded it around his shoulders. Gently, she brushed his hair off his forehead before leaning down and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. "Good night, my prince," she whispered.

Neither Henry nor Emma had connected the dots enough to realize they were royalty. Though Henry would more than likely be thrilled to pieces, Snow had a funny feeling it would be entirely too much for Emma to handle. For her daughter's sake, she hadn't dropped any hints to her grandson about his royal lineage.

Then she turned her attention to Emma. She rounded the bed and stood still for a long moment, looking for signs that Emma could hear her. David' warning from the night before echoed through her head, and the last thing she wanted was for Emma to catch her peeking in on her for a second night.

Fortunately the steady rhythm of Emma's breathing indicated sound sleep, and Snow decided to chance sliding the file out from underneath her arm. She discovered with surprise that this folder was not one from the sheriff's station. The file was Emma's, filled with research she had collected in an attempt to piece together her own story.

Tears brimmed in Snow's eyes as she read the newspaper article detailing little Emma's discovery by the side of the road. Her precious baby girl, hours old, wrapped in a blanket and defenseless in a big new terrifying world.

Her knees buckled and she sank down on the edge of the bed. She flipped to the next article but before she'd had a chance to read much more than the headline, Emma shifted under the covers. Snow looked up in time to see her press a hand against the side of her head.

Maternal instinct immediately took over, obliterating her desire to keep her nightly visits a secret. She set the file down, scrambled to Emma's side, and gently pried her hand away from her face. "Shh, it's okay," she murmured.

For a brief moment, Emma relaxed. Then she screwed up her face against the pain and pressed the heels of her hands into her temples.

Snow was torn. She did not want to leave her daughter's side but she needed to get Emma something for her headache. Emma's soft whimper kicked her into gear. "I'm going to get you some medicine," she whispered just in case Emma had awakened. "I'll be right back, sweetie."

The endearment slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. Snow cringed but Emma didn't appear to have heard it. She ran a comforting hand across her daughter's forehead before pushing herself to her feet and hurrying down the stairs. She tore into the medicine cabinet, fished two pills out of a bottle of aspirin, and poured a glass of water at the sink.

With pain reliever in hand, Snow climbed the stairs and sat back down next to her daughter. "Emma," she said, giving her shoulder a gentle shake. "You need to wake up and take some medicine."

Emma groaned, squinted her eyes shut against the light, and massaged her temples in an effort to calm her throbbing head. "Head … hurts," she ground out through gritted teeth.

"I know, Emma," she replied, her tone soothing. She again pried a hand away from Emma's head and tucked the pain relievers into her palm. Emma closed her hand around the pills, grasping Snow's fingers as she did so. The contact filled Snow with feelings of warmth and comfort and love.

After Emma popped the pills into her mouth, Snow pressed the water glass into her now-empty hand. Emma managed to sit up just enough to wash the medicine down with a sip of water.

"Thank you," Emma said, her voice slightly breathless from both the pain and the exertion. She handed the glass back to Snow, who set it down on the nightstand. Then she settled back down in bed, tucking the covers under her chin.

Snow didn't dare move for fear of disturbing her. Emma was quiet for so long that Snow thought she'd managed to drift off despite the pain and was surprised when a soft voice asked, "Not that I'm complaining or anything, but what were you doing up here?"

"I heard you whimpering and came up to see what was wrong," she answered, cringing inwardly at the lie.

"Oh." Emma opened her eyes and almost immediately squeezed them shut again. The light was too much for her head.

Snow reached over and switched off the lamp. "You don't get headaches like this a lot, do you?"

"Thankfully, no. It's probably eye strain. Maybe reading files for thirteen hours a day wasn't the best idea I've ever had."

Snow smiled and just barely resisted the urge to reach out and comfort Emma. Physical comfort was fine while she was asleep but not when she was awake. Instead, she said, "No, perhaps not. Try to go back to sleep, Emma. I'll stay here with you, if that's okay."

"Mm-hmm."

Snow raised her eyebrows; she had expected an argument. Either the pain was making Emma more amenable or she was already half-asleep.

Option B it was, for it didn't take long at all for the tension on Emma's features to disappear and for her muscles to relax. Smiling, Snow gently ran her thumb over her daughter's cheek. Then she stood, grabbed the file from where she'd left it on the edge of the bed, and tiptoed back downstairs.

She prepared a mug of cocoa before settling down at the kitchen table with Emma's file. How Emma had even gotten her hands on some of these documents, Snow had no idea. First and foremost were the newspaper articles chronicling little Emma's first few days in this world. Apparently Emma's story had touched a local nerve; the newspaper reporter had christened her Baby Emma and published daily articles on the progress of her case. Once she was placed with a family, the reporter, apparently satisfied with the happy ending, moved on to other stories.

But Emma's story, as Snow well knew, did not end there. The rest of the file chronicled years of hardship, from report cards marked up with concerned notes from teachers to apprehensive and carefully worded letters from school guidance counselors. Snow had to swallow hard when she came across a school assignment on which a young Emma had written her first name followed by three last names, two of which she had crossed out, as if she couldn't remember which name she was supposed to be using. There were reports from social workers who, when Emma began getting into or causing trouble under one foster family's care, had simply moved her to another.

Then she looked more carefully at the school records and social workers' reports. Of the six report cards Emma had managed to keep, four of them were from different schools. The same social worker's signature appeared on only four of the twelve reports in the file, the earliest ones. A total of seven different people had filled out the other eight. No wonder a grown-up Emma had had such a hard time staying in one place; getting bounced around was the only thing she knew.

It was Emma's fifth-grade report card that finally did Snow in. A letter from Mrs. Baumgarten, Emma's teacher that year, was tucked inside. Her bubbly print told Emma that she would grow to do big things someday. _Your future is yours, Emma, and yours alone_, she had written. _Don't believe them when they tell you that you're a bad kid. You're a great kid and I'm lucky to have had you in my class this year. You're going to be a fantastic adult when you grow up_.

David found Snow crying into her cocoa. "What's the matter?" he asked her, his concern evident.

She pushed the file across the table towards him. "A teacher she had when she was eleven was the only person who cared enough about our baby to tell her that she was an amazing kid."

Tears welled in his eyes as he skimmed over the folder's contents. He swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and closed the file. "And despite it all, she turned out great."

"But David, what she went through–"

"It can't be changed, Snow." He sat down across from her and forced her to meet his gaze. "Believe me, I feel horrible about it, too. It kills me to read this and see how hard her life was. I wish she'd had it so much easier. I wish she'd had someone to love her and nurture her and tell her that she's a princess who is destined to do great things. I wish she'd had us, and I wish we'd had her. Unfortunately – for everyone involved but most especially for her – what's done is done and there is no changing it."

"So, what, I'm not allowed to feel guilty?"

Though reason told him the guilt wasn't theirs to bear – it was Regina's for putting them in that position in the first place – he felt it every second of every day, just like she did. Not allowing his wife to acknowledge it would have been hypocritical. So he said, "You are allowed to feel guilty. What you're not allowed to do is let that guilt color everything else."

He reached across the table for her hand, which she slipped into his. "Our experiences shape us, Snow. If she hadn't lived the life she did, maybe there would be no Henry. And without Henry, maybe we all would still be stuck living under Regina's curse. Maybe I would still be David and you would still be Mary Margaret and we'd all still be searching for what makes us happy and never finding it. But the big point I'm trying to make here is, if she hadn't lived the life she did, she wouldn't be Emma."

Snow pondered her husband's words for a long moment. He was correct that nothing could be done about the past. As painful as it was to acknowledge, they had been cheated out of twenty-eight years of their daughter's life. But those twenty-eight years had shaped their baby into the woman that was sleeping up in the loft, had shaped her into a fighter and a hero and a woman of strength and virtue and character. Nothing could rewind time and give them back those missing years, but they could not allow themselves to spend the present crying for the past. They had their daughter _now_, and that was what mattered.

And all of a sudden, Snow knew how to get through to Emma. She had managed to get through to her before as Mary Margaret and maybe that was the difference. If Emma was not yet ready for a mother, maybe she simply needed a friend.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note:** I'm seriously humbled. When my over-obsessed little fangirl brain made a connection between a song I've heard many times over and _Once Upon a Time_ and I decided to turn that connection into a story, I never dreamed the little three-shot that resulted would turn out to be one of my most well-received stories on this site. Thank you so much for your reviews and alerts and favorites. You guys are awesome. Here's the last part; hope you like!

* * *

_Hush, hush, everyone heals in time._

* * *

The next couple of days passed without incident. Things in town were as hectic as ever and poor Emma still spent all day putting out curse-related fires but she had stopped bringing files home. Snow suspected she was simply trying to avoid another eye-strain-induced migraine but since Emma actually stayed downstairs with the family following dinner now, she didn't question it.

Conversation was slowly becoming less uncomfortable. The trick, Snow had found, was getting her daughter and grandson involved in activities together. It didn't matter whether it was card games or board games or reading books aloud to each other. For some reason, Emma was more relaxed with Henry around. It was only when Henry went upstairs to bed and the three adults were left to their own devices that the awkwardness returned.

As a matter of fact, things between Henry and Emma had been so drama-free that it came as a shock to Snow and David when, as they returned to the apartment carrying heaping bags of groceries, they heard a heated argument between mother and son filtering through the closed door and all the way down the corridor.

"I want to go back to school!" Henry's voice, and from his frustration level, Snow guessed it wasn't the first time he'd said so.

"And I said you're not ready to go back to school," Emma replied, her even tone just barely masking her own exasperation.

They opened the apartment door just as Henry whined, "The sheriff's station is so _boring_, Emma! The doctors say I'm ready to go back to school and I _want_ to go back. So why won't you let me?"

Emma closed her eyes for a brief moment. Snow could almost see the numbers bouncing through her daughter's head as she silently counted to five. "You're not going back to school, Henry, and that's final."

"That's the kind of thing _she_ used to say," Henry spat out.

The boy's eyes widened in surprise, as if he couldn't believe what had just come out of his mouth. When Emma flinched at the comparison to Regina, Henry turned on his heel and ran up the stairs.

Snow and David exchanged a glance. He darted his eyes to the stairs before looking back at her, silently suggesting he handle Henry while she took Emma. She nodded, set the grocery bags down on the counter, and waited until David disappeared up the stairs before approaching Emma. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Emma replied, though her tone indicated that she was about as far from fine as humanly possible. She stomped over to the grocery bags and began putting the items away one by one, slamming the cabinets and the refrigerator door closed every chance she got.

Snow allowed the tantrum for a few seconds before slipping a box of pasta from Emma's hand and calmly setting it in the cabinet herself. "What happened?"

"His doctors cleared him to return to school."

Why that news had caused an argument rather than a celebration, Snow didn't understand. However, asking Emma as much would have put her on the defensive, so she simply said, "I gathered that."

"He's not going back."

"I gathered that, too." As she set the milk in the refrigerator, she idly wondered when the heft of the full gallon would stop surprising her. She'd gone from buying quarts as Mary Margaret to buying gallons for a family, and she wasn't quite used to it yet. "You know that he has to go back to school sometime."

"He's not going back," Emma repeated, softer this time. The anger was gone and now her voice reflected the kind of concern that could only come from a parent worrying over a child.

Snow turned away from the refrigerator and frowned at her daughter. "Why don't you want him to go back?"

Emma suddenly found the back of a box of Cocoa Puffs fascinating.

"It's just that you're pretty adamant," Snow continued when it became clear that Emma wasn't going to answer, "and in my experience, that kind of certainty usually has a reason."

She turned the cereal box in her hand and began poring over the nutrition information.

Snow let the silence spin out for a few seconds before saying, "Well, it's fine if you don't want to tell me, but you do need to tell Henry. That boy deserves to know why his mother won't let him go back to school."

"I can't tell him," Emma mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Why not?"

Emma set the cereal down on the counter before walking away and plopping down in a chair at the table. A quick glance told Snow all the perishables were put away, so she joined her daughter, sitting across from her. "I can't tell him because I don't want him to be scared." She looked up and met Snow's eyes. "I don't know where she is."

"Regina," Snow whispered, suddenly understanding the reason behind Emma's apprehension.

Emma nodded. "I don't know where she is but I do know where he is. If he's with me, I know he's safe."

"You think she's going to, what, kidnap him? Cast a spell and magic him away?"

"Either. Both. Something else entirely," Emma replied, her agitation growing. "Who the hell knows? That's the whole point! We _don't_ know where she is and we _don't_ know what she can do and we _don't_ know what she's planning. I can't control her–"

"But you can control him," Snow finished for her daughter.

Emma shrugged, an uncertain expression on her face. She clearly didn't like having it worded that way. "Like I said, I know he's safe if he's with me."

Snow took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Emma still didn't trust anyone to help her. Why did she continue to think she had to do everything alone? She had family now, people she could rely on, people she could trust … if only she would let them in.

"Emma, you do realize that he's going to return to my class, don't you?" Emma frowned at her but she didn't look away, which Snow took as a good sign. "We'll get out of school at the same time. David or I can watch him until you get home or even bring him right to you if you want. The point is, whether he's with you at the station or with me at school, he's going to have his family around him all day. Nothing's going to happen to him."

"You don't know that."

"But you don't know that it will."

"I think I'd rather err on the side of caution."

"Is erring on the side of caution worth locking your son away from the rest of the world, Emma? How is that fair to him?"

That caused Emma to avert her gaze. Snow sighed, mentally kicking herself for pushing too hard.

Then again, maybe she _should_ push hard. Maybe it was time to lay all her cards on the table and let the pieces fall where they may.

She inhaled deeply and held the breath, shoring up the courage for the chance she was about to take. After a few seconds of silence, she said in a gentle but firm tone, "A lesson I've recently learned about motherhood is that being a good mother means letting your child do things his or her own way. It means responding to the child rather than forcing the child to respond to you. Even though you want nothing more than to keep Henry with you all day long, you have to give him what he needs, not what you want."

Emma made herself small in the kitchen chair and picked at her cuticles. Snow's words had indeed penetrated but Emma wasn't in any way prepared to respond. Since she still had an audience, Snow kept talking. "You're the one who taught me that. It took me a little while to realize that you don't need a mother, Emma. You need a friend. And if I can be that friend for you, I'm more than willing to try."

Emma continued to stare down at her hands. The silence stretched out, and Snow eventually got up from the table and went back to finish putting away the groceries. She was down to the last few purchases when Emma joined her, grabbing two boxes of butter crackers and stowing them in the cabinet. "You're wrong."

"I'm wrong about what?"

"I do need a mother." Snow felt a rush of emotion at Emma's words, but what she felt most was joy the likes of which she'd never felt before. "I need a friend, too, but I need a mother. And a father. I'm just … I don't think I'm very good at being a daughter."

Snow wanted to tell Emma that she was the best daughter in the history of the universe but the sheer mushiness of that statement would have shut Emma down, maybe indefinitely. So she gave what she could only hope was a nonchalant shrug and said, "Well, I'm still trying to figure out how to be a mother, so why don't we start as friends? We can figure out the family stuff as we go."

For the first time since the return of magic, a genuine smile brightened Emma's face. "I think I'd like that."

Snow grinned back; Emma had her father's smile. "Me too." She almost reached out to caress Emma's cheek but stopped herself in time. A gesture as motherly as caressing her daughter's cheek would surely have violated their resolution to be friends first. "Now that that's settled, you should go talk to your son. Dinner will be ready in a little while."

Emma nodded and headed for the loft. She paused at the bottom of the stairs, turning to face her mother. "Hey, Snow? Thanks."

"You're more than welcome, Emma," Snow replied, touched that Emma had not only thanked her but also called her by her real name without stumbling over it first.

David came down the stairs mere seconds after Emma went up. "She seemed a lot calmer," he said, stepping behind Snow and sliding his hands onto her shoulders. He pressed his thumbs into her shoulder blades in a circular motion, smiling when he felt her muscles relax under his touch.

"We had a good talk," she replied, a soft smile on her face. "Our first real talk, I think. At least our first real talk since all hell broke loose."

"I'm glad."

Her smile widened when he planted a kiss on the top of her head. "How's Henry?"

"Confused and hurt that Emma won't let him go to school but mostly he regretted his outburst. He could tell he'd hurt Emma when he told her she sounded like Regina."

"The words did sting but I think she knew he'd only said it because he was angry."

"I'm sure they'll work it out," David said. He slipped his hands from her shoulders and when she turned to face him, he fixed her with a mischievous grin. "We are going to eavesdrop on their conversation, aren't we?"

"Oh, of course!" Snow replied, returning his grin. "What kind of parents would we be if we didn't?"

* * *

Snow listened from the bottom of the stairs long enough to hear Emma explain her reasoning for wanting to keep Henry out of school and then tell him he could return if he wanted to. After Henry thanked her and apologized for comparing her to Regina, Snow went to get dinner started, leaving David on eavesdrop duty.

About ten minutes later, David scrambled off the steps and joined his wife at the counter. She slid him a cucumber for the salad she was putting together, which he immediately began peeling. When Henry and Emma came down from the loft a few seconds later, they assumed David and Snow had been preparing dinner the whole time they'd been talking.

Without waiting to be told, Henry opened the silverware drawer while Emma pulled dishes and glasses from the cabinet. Snow and David raised their eyebrows at each other but didn't say a word as their daughter and grandson set the table. When they were done, Henry curled up on the sofa with a book, and Emma asked if there was anything she could do to help with the dinner preparations.

A look of mild horror crossed Snow's face, causing a bashful smile to curl on Emma's lips. "I meant is there something easy I can do? Chopping vegetables or stirring sauce or something. Believe me, I know my limitations in the kitchen."

There really wasn't much left to do. Snow had already breaded the chicken and had it baking in the oven, and the cream sauce was reducing on the stove. David had insisted on mashed potatoes but since he'd decided on the side mere minutes before Snow put the chicken in the oven, they'd had to settle for instant.

However, Emma offering her help was a huge step – for Emma and for the family in general – and Snow did not want to discourage her. Thinking quickly, she nodded at the salad bowl. "The salad could use another tomato and cucumber and maybe some croutons, if you can find some."

Emma's brow wrinkled as she frowned at the bowl Snow had indicated. From what she could see, the salad was done, sliced vegetables artfully arranged on a bed of iceberg and romaine lettuces. But when her questioning eyes met Snow's gentle ones, she understood. "I'll get right on it," she replied with a tiny, grateful smile.

"And I can poke around for some croutons!" Henry called, setting down his book and pushing himself up from the sofa.

David relinquished his knife and place at the cutting board to his daughter and met his wife's gaze over Emma's head. When he winked, Snow smiled at him.

As she watched Emma slice into the cucumber only to have David ask before placing his hands over hers and adjusting them to show her how to hold the knife to better control the thickness of the slices, Snow realized that her infant family was taking its first steps. There were sure to be more than a few stumbles along the way – and maybe even some crash landings – but in the end, they would all learn how to walk and they would do so together.


End file.
